Noticing
by asteristar
Summary: Lorelai makes a list of questions to ask Luke. And it turns out to be a lot more than just a list. Finally finished. And I mean it this time.
1. Lorelai's Letter

Noticing

Disclaimer: I own nothing. But I wish I did.

Summary: Lorelai makes a list of questions for Luke.

A/N: This will probably be a OneShot unless people think otherwise. Set in late Season 1, before Max's proposal.

**Noticing**

She's never really noticed.

It's always been this idea flitting around in the back of her shifting conscience, coming to her attention for a few seconds, then drifting away. The theory that he's more than he is. That he's more than she thinks he is. She spends a few moments deciphering her cryptic thoughts and tries to move on. But she can't. Because today, today she finally noticed.

She's not sure, but she thinks it was the coffee. It's always the coffee. This morning, she sat there thinking about Max, which led to Chilton, which led to Rory, which led to coffee, which led to Luke, which led to… Luke. So she tried to think about something else. She thought about the inn, which led to Sookie, which led to food, which led to the diner, which led to Luke, which led to… Luke.

She's never really noticed. But sitting there at her kitchen table, she knows she should have seen this sooner. Everything comes down to him. Scary, for her. And yet, at the same time, not. Safe. Right. Good.

But then there's Max. Max Medina, the man an alliterating name. For a few seconds, she becomes sidetracked, listing other alliterating names in her head. Luke doesn't have a strange name. His is normal. Luke Danes. Does he have a middle name? She makes a mental note to ask him that. She grabs a piece of paper and, in an attempt to channel Rory, makes a list. Of questions to ask Luke.

Number one – that whole middle name thing. She's really confused about that. Number two – she'd like to know more about his family. All she knows is that his dad died when he was young, and that his mother died before that. So there's a lot of asking to do in that area. Number three – she wants to know why his coffee is always better than hers, or anyone else's. Number four – she'd like to ask him why, even when she's wearing heels, he manages to be the exact right height.

And then there's the matter of his eyes. They're strange to her, a shade of imperceptible blue that makes her feel warm in her heart. Make that number five. But she'd also like to know why he's so good to her. Why he puts up with all her whining, why he fixes her house without taking money, why he cares about her coffee drinking habits. So that's numbers six, seven, eight, and nine.

She keeps writing, questions forming in her mind quicker than she can write them down. She's surprised, really, that Luke can induce this many questions. After all, she's known him forever. She does the math in her head. Forever turns out to be four years. But it feels like longer than that, she thinks. Well, she's never been good at math. Maybe she did the subtraction wrong. If she used subtraction, which she's not sure she did.

She wastes a few seconds redoing the math, and gets three hours as a result. She decides that 'forever' is a more accurate estimate and sticks with that. The list beckons, and she begins again. This time, however, her questions take a different turn, shifting to a more emotional level.

And finally, she comes up with the last one. Looking over her list, she knows it encompasses everything. It's all-knowing. Actually, it's more like all-asking. She laughs softly to herself. This final question took her a long time to think up, but it's a good one, one even Rory would approve of.

Number Eighty Seven: Why Luke loves her. Because she's never really noticed, but sitting at her kitchen table, she knows he does.


	2. Luke's Letter

Noticing

A/N: Since people objected to the whole OneShot idea, I'm making a second chapter. There will be one more after this.

**Chapter Two**

He's never really noticed.

He's been so caught up in his despair that he hasn't seen his salvation, hovering in front of him. It's stupid to believe the worst, he knows, but after everything so far, he's not sure he can believe anything else.

The small bells hanging on the door jingle a little as she comes in. He glances up, and frowns, because she's a little nervous. Strange, yet oddly satisfying. He's always nervous, whenever he sees her, so it's nice to know she can feel the same thing. Lately, he's been questioning her humanity.

But she speaks to him, and all proof of humanity disappears. The way her voice sounds? Definitely not mortal. He smiles slightly, tracing her features with his eyes. She grins lopsidedly at him, and he realized she's asked for coffee. He nods, reaching behind him for the coffee pot. Carefully, he pours a full mug of the steaming liquid for her, and she gives him a worried look.

"What, no lecture today?" she asks, and he can only shake his head, mesmerized by the slight trace of eyeliner that makes her eyes seem brighter. She smiles gratefully. "Thanks," she continues, "because I'm really not in the mood for one." She pauses for a second, watching him, and he's not sure if he should feel nervous or blessed.

She bends down to the bag she's set down on another stool and takes out four pieces of paper stapled together. The packet is folded up – he can't read her writing – but by the look on her face, he thinks it must be something important. She holds it out to him, and as he reaches out to take it, she jerks it away, a warning look on her face.

"This is classified stuff, mister," she cautions. "You have to promise not to read this until I'm gone."

"Why?" he asks, confused.

She grins. "Spy code – duh."

"Of course," he answers, like it's obvious. He waits, expecting the paper to be thrust into his hands soon, but she arches an eyebrow at him.

"I promise," he says dutifully. She grins and gives him the packet. He can feel the weight of its importance weighing on him. He's anxious to see what he's written, but she's sipping her cup of coffee like she hasn't told him to follow a spy code. She catches him giving her 'the look' and grins.

"What?" she asks innocently. He waves the papers in her direction and she sighs lightly. "Fine, fine," she says, and hops off her stool. With a slight wave, she exits the diner, the slight jingle of the bells sounding once again. He opens the packet and sees the first question. Lorelai Gilmore wants to know what his middle name is. He laughs to himself, tell Caesar to take over, and goes upstairs.

The questions she's asking are like her train of thought, written on paper. The questions skip from one topic to the next. He can't see any similarities, but he knows that in her mind, there was a wholly logical explanation.

None of her questions are completely unexpected. Save one. The last, number eighty-seven. She wants to know why he loves her.

Taking a pen out of his pocket – the pen he takes orders with, as she would gleefully point out – he sits down with a pad of paper and beings to pour out his life to one Lorelai Gilmore.


	3. Reading and Revelations

Noticing

A/N: Last chapter! Thanks to everybody who has read and/or reviewed! Just a side note – all the italics are Luke's letter, and I'm only going to answer the questions that I've mentioned before, just to make it easier. And sorry about the constant paragraph breaks. The letter looks best this way.

**Chapter Three**

It's three in the morning.

She sits on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her. Her eyes are focused on the blank TV, watching stories play out in her head. She's alone in the house, having sent Rory to Lane's for the occasion. She is surrounded by movies, candy and coffee mugs, all there in case she should fall asleep and miss him. Because she knows he'll come, or call, or do something. And she'll be damned is she misses it.

The doorbell rings, and she's up faster than ever, knocking over a bowl of marshmallows in the process. She runs to the door and skids to a halt, trying to calm herself. As she pulls the door open, she's disappointed to see that there's no one there. She frowns. Some kid playing ding-dong-ditch at three in the morning? That's a wise move. She takes a few steps outside to look for potential visitors, only to feel something crackle beneath her bare feet. She looks down. It's an envelope with her name on it, formed in Luke's slanted writing.

How very like Luke, she thinks, for him to leave a letter just as she did. She steps back, bends down, picks it up, and goes back inside. She plops herself down on the couch again and tucks her feet up under her. Everything is as it was a few minutes ago. Except now, now she has this letter. And that's all that matters.

She opens it quickly, tearing the envelope in multiple places in her hasty attempt to get the letter out. When she finally does, she realizes that it's a pretty short letter. Trust Luke to be able to take something so huge and make it so simple. She takes a breath, and reads the first page.

_Dear Lorelai, _

_I started reading your letter this morning, and I didn't finish for at least an hour. You asked me a lot of questions, and some of them were so like you that I had to read them twice to understand. It's like that with you – I'm always one step behind. _

She laughs under her breath. To her, Luke is always one step ahead.

_I'll try to answer your questions. Sorry if my answers don't make sense – you know I'm not great with words. You wanted to know my middle name. It's Ian._

She's laughing again, but out loud this time. Ian is not a Luke name. Nothing but Luke is a Luke name.

_I know you well enough, Lorelai. You're laughing right now, aren't you?_

She stops laughing, her face suddenly serious. This is kind of creepy. How does he know that?

_Well, stop. I didn't choose it. My mother's father was named Ian, and it's a family thing. I think you know enough about that. So on to your next question – my family. Honestly, Lorelai, I'm not sure there's anything I can tell you that you haven't heard from Miss Patty._

She laughs. He really does know her too well. She asked Miss Patty just last week.

_My coffee secret, you already know. Nutmeg. That's it. Have Sookie add some at the Inn._

This is one thing she doesn't believe. She's added entire containers of nutmeg before in a last ditch attempt to make good coffee, because there was this notion that if she could make coffee like his, she wouldn't need him. Which she now knows is completely untrue.

_As for your number four, I can honestly say that I have no idea what you're talking about. Being a man, I don't know what the right height is when one is wearing heels. And with any luck, I never will._

_My eyes? Lorelai, anyone can tell I wear color contacts._

She does a double take, nearly falling off the couch. Color contacts?

_You thought I was telling the truth, didn't you? I'll bet you almost fell over._

She scowls, almost hating the man for his clear understanding of her. Stupid, stupid Lorelai for falling in love with him. Suddenly, she sits up straight. Where did that come from? She thinks about it for a second before she realizes that it was only a matter of time before he became her everything. So she keeps reading.

_I really can't tell you why they are the color they are. At the risk of sounding sappy, they look just like my dad's did._

Her frown melts, forming a small smile that she knows only he can induce.

_I'll combine your six, seven, eight and nine into one thing. Why I don't move away from here in an attempt to escape you. Lorelai, there's a simple reason that I stay here day after day. And that's you._

She pauses for a second, her mind going blank in what she knows is a blissful way.

_I'll skip the rest of your questions and go straight to the end. To the most important one. Number Eighty Seven. There are so many reasons a person could love you, Lorelai. I'll simplify them all by telling you that I love you just because you're you. Because of where you came from, because of where you are now. Because of all the things you've said or done, because of the way you smiled when I made you a burger that looked like a Santa._

_There's so much more I could say, but I've run out of paper._

She flips the pages over frantically, looking for something else there. She knows that it's improbable – even his last word is cramped in tiny. But at the bottom of the last page are two words, scribbled quickly and in microscopic print.

_Love,_

_Luke_

She jumps as the doorbell rings once again. This time, she knows it's no kid. She knows who it is. She gets up, walks to the door, and swings it open, a smile on her face.

"Hey Luke."

"Hey Lorelai."


	4. Full Circle

A/N: Short, wrap up chapter to end this story. For good, this time. Takes place a month after the first chapter.

* * *

She always thought she's never noticed. 

But she's never been great at lying, especially to herself, so she can't deny that's she's known every second since the day they met. She used to avoid it, used to back away from anything too great to handle. Not anymore. Not today.

It was a month ago today that she first sat at the kitchen table and wondered how he was the center of her life. A month ago today, she first acknowledged that he was her sun, her moon, her stars, her world.

It was the coffee, she's sure. Nobody can protest now when she says that coffee controls everything. Because she's right, you see. Coffee was the reason she met Luke, and as of now, Luke is pretty much her reason for everything.

She remembers sitting at her kitchen table and thinking about Max and Luke, comparing the two. That had been the start of everything. That had been the day when she realized that nobody could hold a candle to Luke's bonfire. And look at her now, making crazy metaphors and sounding like a total sap.

Which she was, of course. That was what Luke reduced her to. A complete and utter sap. Exactly the kind of woman she's always made fun of. And look at her now, staring thoughtfully at the two letters in her hand. One is hers, the one she gave to Luke, and the other is his, the one he wrote in return. She's taken to rereading them every night before she goes to bed, reminding herself of all she's been blessed with. Reminding herself never to let go of the man who told her he wore color contacts. She is sidetracked for a minute, remembering how she had examined Luke's bathroom for evidence of contact lenses the first time she'd stayed over. She comes back to the present with a jolt as Rory comes home. She smiles eagerly and calls to her daughter.

Rory's face will be priceless when she learns that her mother is engaged to Luke Danes.


	5. The Questions of Lorelai Gilmore

A/N: God, I totally set myself up. Eighty seven questions? At least I had the first couple already written. Well, so many people said that they wanted to know the other questions Lorelai had asked, so I decided to write a list. But my creative genius couldn't come up with eighty seven, so I made this the abridged version. Not quite eighty seven questions. More like 25. Hope you're all satisfied. :D

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_**The Questions of Lorelai Gilmore (The Abridged Version)**_

1) Hey, Luke, what's your middle name?

2) Tell me about your family.

3) Why is your coffee always better than mine, huh? Don't I deserve to be able to make good coffee?

4) How is it that you manage to always be the right height, even when I'm in heels? It's not natural, Luke, it's really not.

5) I want to know about your eyes, Luke. I'm not sure what I want to know. Just tell me something, and I'll see if that's it.

6) Why do you put up with all my stupid whining?

7) Why do you fix my house without taking money? It's not very economic, you know.

8) Why do you care about my coffee drinking habits? I probably keep you in business.

9) Why do you insist on wearing flannel? I mean, I know it's good for insulation and all, but it's really not a great fashion statement.

17) Why, Luke, why don't you have danishes every day of the week? You should have danishes every day.

29) What kind of music do you like?

30) You don't like reggae, do you? Cause that would just be too weird.

41) When was the last time you shaved your face completely? I mean, that stubble thing works for you, don't get me wrong. I was just wondering.

52) Why don't you eat brownies? What did they ever do to you?

53) Can you bake 'special brownies'? You know, the ones with pot in them?

54) Did you ever smoke pot?

55) Will you please not punch me in the face the next time you see me for asking you that? That would be awfully nice of you. Thanks.

56) So, we've established you're not a druggie? But what other kinds of trouble have you been in? You diner owners are a dangerous bunch.

69) Have you ever been arrested? Wait, what am I saying? Of course you haven't. You're you.

75) Hey, have you ever read _People Magazine_? Because there was this article about upcoming trends in fashion and somebody wrote about flannel and I'm getting off track.

76) But seriously, Luke, have you ever read _People Magazine_? I think you'd like it.

81) Why won't you put curtains in the diner? They would look so pretty, Luke. And I mean pretty in the manliest possible way.

85) What are you still doing here, Luke? What does this town have for you? Why haven't you left here to find something better? Or is this what you really want?

86) What do you really want? I can never tell. Or maybe I can. And I think that maybe, that's why I'm writing you this letter.

87) Why do you love me, Luke? It sounds stupid, I know, but I just need to know why.


End file.
